Home Stretch

Roughly about 49 required posts left of this blog before I've gotten to my year's mark. Not that I'm counting. Heavens, no.

It'll be nice to only blog when I've got something I want to say, not out of sheer obligation. Poo-poo on these once-a-day resolutions. They never seem to change a person, merely make them feel obligated to do something (and then excessively guilty when they don't follow through). That's not a way to self-improve.

Granted, I'd like to make sure I get my required glasses of water a day, but if I mess that up, I won't beat myself up over it. Sure, I'll get dehydrated, but meh.

In other news: Monday? I'm ready for you. Bring on your drudgery. I'm gonna slap it square in the mouth and show it who's boss. (Hashtag: motivation.)

Crafty

Today, I learned that sewing machines can be as expensive as $7,000. I also learned that Mimi's Cafe makes a darn good turkey croissant with brie and cranberry relish. All in all, I also consider that it's been a successful Saturday, since I can lay claim to having made one of those fleece tie-blankets.

No joke, y'all. It's pretty much the greatest thing ever made.

Here it is

Your Friday moment of zen, brought to you by the fact that it's now the weekend!

"Thank you, God," is right!

Birthday Bear

Some folks will tell you that they can't remember anything from when they were three. Call me bizarre, but I have a few very vivid snapshots or two. One of those memories was when my family moved across town. I sat in the moving van and wore a yellow t-shirt with a pocket in the front. I remember my shirt sleeve flapping from the wind outside the window.

I have another distinct memory from when I was three years old. It was 1989, and my mom was great with child. In preparation for the baby's arrival, she had a boatload of stuff, including a little Snoopy rattle.

On this quite ordinary day, she was standing in the dining room, facing out toward the living room, and let me shake said Snoopy rattle at her belly. I was told that my soon-to-be-little sister would probably like that sort of thing.

Not quite the same model, I don't think. But close.

A short time later, that very sister decided to arrive. I remember staying at the Pogorelecs' house, friends from church, while Mom and Dad were at the hospital. That morning, I wasn't hungry for anything, barely even finished half a glass of orange juice as I overheard Marie talking on the phone with my parents about the new little bundle of joy. Her name? Nicole Marie.

That was 23 years ago today. I've had 23 years of sisterly love from the wonderful Nicole Marie. Yes, we bickered -- sisters have to; it's a requirement -- but so much of my memories of those years were nothing but playtime with our overly active imaginations. Our Disney barbie dolls got into so many predicaments (I never did understand why we made John Smith the idiot), and our "radio shows" that we recorded on re-re-re-re-purposed cassette tapes couldn't be beat.

Three and-a-half years' difference provided quite a strain sometimes (because, let's face it, there was a vast difference between what a ten year-old wanted to do for fun and what a fourteen year-old wanted to do), but as we passed on into our later teenage years, it simply didn't matter. We simply became pals. Best pals.

To this day, she and I maintain a connection that many have tried to decode, but none have. We'll speak entirely in You've Got Mail quotes (including the occasional Heavyweights or Cool Runnings throwback). We'll recall all of the inside jokes that have "technically" made it into our lexicon throughout our childhood. And then, when all else fails, we'll be snuggly and be sisters. I couldn't ask for more.

Coley, you're a beautiful young woman. You're 23 today, and although you've grown to be plenty capable and plenty grown-up over these past few years, you'll always be a fussy little Bear -- one that Daddy always lets roll just one more time at Yahtzee -- that I happen to love so very much.

I'm so thankful we're sisters. My life's experiences have been made so much sweeter with this simple fact: you've been part of them. You're positively beautiful, charismatic, spirited, so very full of life and love. I'm proud of you. I love you.

Happiest of birthdays, Coley Bear.

PS: Good thing it wasn't the fish.

Disgraceful, Denty

First I was all

But then I was like

Disney. What. Is this madness. "Fresh and relevant," my backside. Cindy would never throw her hips foward all "hey girrrl" like that. (I was trying to find a good photo of some of the other princesses; it's not pretty. Belle be looking all trampy and they gave Snow White a perm or some insanity.)

A thing of beauty

I really love painting, I've decided. These painting sessions I've attended here and there are downright therapeutic. I feel better, more peaceful when I paint.

And I've never done a Burton-esque tree, so that's pretty fabulous.

RachRabbit

Today is someone's birthday. Someone awesome's birthday.

That someone is a friend of mine that I've known for ages. Years, really. She's quirky in the best way, insightful in the most valuable ways, and there in every way. 

Rachel, you're one of the most genuine, amazing people I know. Your humor is contagious, your spirit infectious. You make gorgeous effortless and yes, even Amy Adams is jellin. I'm so excited about what the rest of your time in South Korea has in store for you, and even more excited when you're back stateside and I can finally give you that long-sought-after hug I've owed you ages ago.

I love you to bits, missy. You'll always be welcome with me (physically or otherwise, but let's be honest, physically is preferred), and you'll always have the Fonzie suite reserved with your name on it.

You deserve a happy birthday, most certainly, but I wish you a happy day-after-your-birthday, too. And a happy day-after-that. And day-after-that. And so on. A happy life. Always.

Happy birthday, my dear friend. Now go have a Will Smith dance party. You've earned it.

 

And yes, I do hope as you celebrate with your nearest pals tonight with The Princess Bride and wine, that it'll only be the culmination of what I know will be the...

Best. Day. Ever. <3


Love Always,
Mrs. B

Determination

I should be miserable because

(a) It's Sunday night,
(b) I'm not even tired yet,
(c) I've got to get up early tomorrow
(d) to go to a job I'm generally unhappy at
(e) and repeat it again for five days before an all-too-temporary reprieve.

While those are all valid reasons for being disgruntled, I know that life is too short to spend it being grouchy about circumstances beyond my control. In fact, I'm happy because

(a) I have a job at all,
(b) I had an amazing day in the mountains with my awesome husband,
(c) I have an awesome husband,
(d) the weather was exceptionally pre-fall,
(e) I get to make gnocchi for dinner tomorrow.

Perspective. I'm gaining it, slowly but surely. There's so much to be thankful for in so many arenas. I'm hoping to re-align the puzzle pieces to go back where they belong to create that full, complete picture.

The good stuff

Sometimes, I can't help but feel like much of my life is like a magazine. And, so far, all I've been doing is thumbing through the five-hundred pages of fluffy ads. I haven't even reached the substance yet.

Guys, I'm desperate to rip all of the unnecessary ads out of my life-magazine. That might only leave me with a remainder of ten pages, but those ten pages are actual content. They're substantial. They matter.

Here it is

Your Friday moment of zen, because, let's face it: can we ever REALLY get enough of Gangnam Style?

I'm home

I swear I made a picture-based post about the Cardinals game last night, but it didn't take. I'll address it at a later junction.

For now, I'm tired beyond most reason. I'll join the human race again tomorrow, promise.

The Lou, Part 2

Spoiled myself rotten with room service breakfast this morning. I felt like Kate Middleton, let me tell you.

The rest of the day was generally uneventful: answered work emails, had meetings with our account consultants, and sat in a ton of keynote speakers and breakout sessions. They were all awesome and relevant, just nothing that's blog-worthy. All of this culminated at an event earlier this evening that included so many hors d'oeuvres that I ended up classifying it as dinner.

By the time we were done with conference-y sorts of things, I had a solid 10 minutes of daylight left before sunset. Thankfully, the St. Louis Arch is right outside my door. And I mean, right outside it. You turn left, and wham. Giant croquet hoop. I walked around outside for maybe half an hour before I started to get that whole white-lady-traveling-by-herself-and-doesn't-look-like-a-local paranoia. Sure, those scruffy (and perhaps homeless) guys might've been harmless old codgers, but I wasn't about to take any chances.

And so here I am, back in the hotel. It's fine, though, since I've got to be back downstairs for more conference stuff at 7:30am tomorrow morning.

It's been just peachy so far, though I'm kind of disappointed that my business trip hasn't turned out like this one:

Don't act like you guys don't watch some Homestar Runner every so often.

The Lou

As I've embarked on my super-fancy, very-first, big-girl business trip to St. Louis today, I'm still drinking in the level of awesome.

Plane travel = not so bad. In coach, but the flight was under two hours. Played Plants Vs. Zombies until we landed. Score.

Food = so far, so good. My boss, my coworker and I stopped at a place called Jake's near the riverfront. Steak was awesome (once it got there), and you really can't beat company-comped food. No, sir.

Hotel = good gravy. Look, I know I'm kind of a spoil sport because I have no desire to play at a casino until 3:00am, but I'm more than content with being a homebody tonight. This hotel room is all mine. The luxurious shower is all mine. The fancy towels? All mine. The double beds? Both mine. The place is right next to the arch, and if I get even partial free time tomorrow, I'm going to go scope it out.

And I get room service breakfast tomorrow. Good heavens, it's a crying shame I've got to work this week. Guess something's gotta keep me from being spoiled rotten, though.

Overused but still true

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."

The above statement from good old Teddy Geisel shouldn't be used as a free pass to screw the world, but it's a darn good way for us to set our priorities. We can only chase after the "those who mind"s for so long before we start wondering if they even want to be sought after.

Suwanee Day

As we enjoyed the Suwanee Day festivities today (that consisted of mostly fried-food stands and a smattering of arts-and-crafts dealers that produced things that are quite Pinterest-worthy), and after a bloat-acious bite at Five Guys, we stopped by our house-to-be.

All documentation/paperwork has been submitted to the bank as of last week, and there's a darn good chance we'll know whether the bank accepts the terms of our short sale by next week.

By next week, we just might know whether or not we have a house. This house.

Here it is

Your Friday moment of zen, brought to you by your friendly (and simultaneously creepy) Happy Jello:

Grandly Staircasey

Well, it was either this or we'd be standing in front of the underwater wreckage of the Titanic. This seemed like a less-morbid option.

And kind of the most awesome.

Funfetti Fantastical Weekend

It has begun. And it's already resulted in cake batter puppy chow and cupcakes flavored with 7-Up.

Yusssss.

Almost two weeks later

David came home! A day early!

Everywhere you look

Why can't everything be as simple as it was on Full House?

Here it is

Because:

1. I didn't do it on Friday like I normally do,
2. I know my adoring fans love this segment, 
3. and because I'm confident that I have a slew of adoring fans

I bring you your moment of zen (y'know, just to get you through your Sunday-night-into-Monday-morning):

Pizza: A How-To

Now go get that work week, kids. Steal its lunch money and show it who's boss.

Ice cream imitating life

Oh bother. There it goes.

Reactions

When I was under the impression that David would come home on Sunday or Monday from his trip to Belgium:

When he reminded me that he won't be home until at least Wednesday:

Guys. Why is two days so freaking long.

Sheer brilliance

1. Buy pre-packaged cookie dough at your local grocery store.

2. Preheat the oven to 350.

3. Take out only like a fourth of the package. Arrange on cookie sheet.

4. Bake according to directions.

5. Enjoy the rest of the cookie dough later. And also enjoy your tremendous savings.


Good lord. And all this time I just assumed that society wanted me to eat all of the cookies in one sitting. I ate 8 fresh baked cookies in one sitting and, guess what? I STILL HAVE MORE DOUGH IN THE FRIDGE.

The system has fooled me all this time. Rise above it, and enjoy extra batches of cookies.

Or, y'know, eat all 24 in one sitting. Sometimes that's okay too.

Choice

Being happy comes easily some days.

Some days, like today, were lousy. I was discouraged, low, cranky, pessimistic. I felt tired, like if I took any more than two steps, I was wading through jello. I felt inexplicably paranoid, as if I was suddenly stripped from the affections of those I care about. Were my friends really my friends? Was I ignorant to the way things really were? And why the heck was celery and hummus a solid idea for a lunch?

And then, some days are best wrapped up by having pleasant conversation with friends, ones that remind me of how I value the genuine people in my life. It's topped off by warm kitties sleeping close by, and consuming an entire bowl of vanilla pudding.

Being happy is a choice. I choose to be happy. I choose to be grateful. I choose to love.

Return from the Tweetbook Fast, Part 2

For what it's worth, I came back from this whole social media-less experience with a few nuggets of sobering truth.

1. I'm generally irrelevant. And I don't necessarily think this is a bad thing. There could be a great many things worse than being useless on Facebook. It just means that I've got my mind on things a bit more profound than whether I'm liking every single person's status/picture/etc.

2. There's a fine, fine line between voicing your opinions and considering all those that oppose you to be mindless, uneducated cretins.  I'm looking at you, presidential election.

3. I can still have friends. In fact, I'll even make the ballsy claim that my friendships have felt more enriched when I left Facebook and Twitter for a bit. I've sought folks out. They've sought me out. We've had good times. It's involved more effort and, true to what you might think, a little more effort makes the reward all the sweeter.

4. Facebook does make friends-having easier, though. Which is why I'm gonna stick around. The break, though, has reminded me that I don't need to check it on my phone/computer every stinking minute. I can get on when I can, provide input when/if it's valuable, and -- gasp -- have a real life.

I needed to remind myself of that. I may have 99 problems, but Facebook ain't one.

Return from the Tweetbook Fast, Part 1

So, I'm back on Facebook and Twitter (and Tumblr, too, maybe, if I'm even relevant there anymore). Then again, there's a 99% chance you already knew that if you're reading this.

Y'all better look forward to my introspective musings about what it's like to be without either social media outlet. That's going to be hitting ya tomorrow.

That one time in Florida when

I had a delightful day with delightful people (including delightful sister), sustained a little sunburn (okay, a lot), and didn't want to go back to the grind tomorrow.

Vacations never are as long as you need them to be. Then again, I've also never had a year-long vacation. That'd be awesome.

Magical

Yes sir, I know I'm one of those weird adults that appreciates Walt Disney World, but I don't need your permish to have had a pretty good time today at The Happiest Place On Earth.

Sorry, not sorry.